


Nightingale

by orphan_account



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Joui War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You made it sing..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

> I don't owe anything, it belongs to Sorachi Hideaki.  
> Warning: unbeta-ed + manga spoilers (kinda)  
> 

The rain lasts for hours and that night marks the beginning of the rest of his life.

It doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, that rain. They’re enclosed, entrapped, in this tiny room like the prisoners they’ve become, ‘outlaws’ doesn’t fit anymore. The shift is imperceptible, Katsura doesn’t realize yet but the feeling is growing inside of him, this idea that losing someone else will be the end of them. It’s already there, festering, consuming, he also watches how Takasugi’s hair grew a few centimeters since the last time he paid attention, a reminder of the months that have passed. Years in fact. And he watches his face, pale, almost emaciated. Katsura’s hair has grown too, it is longer than it ever was, in another lifetime. Longer than sensei’s.

Takasugi is also cleaning the blade of his katana obsessively.

Gintoki hasn’t come back, he won’t for the night. He is a shadow of himself and the more time he spends alone on dusty roads, dark forests and red battlefields the less careful he becomes, a far cry from the demon who slaughtered thousands and more. Who told him not to die beautifully because it’s a dumb thing to do. Gintoki is many things but he was right. Katsura thinks he’s had enough, his childhood friend never was that much invested in the cause, only in his comrades.

It’s still raining, Takasugi is still ruminating.

Many times Katsura has been through this, he’s done it before, reviving over and over again the same scene: Gintoki is absent, he left in secret to scout and Takasugi leaves too, always around midnight. Their bond is broken even it’s only the three of them again. What should’ve meant a new beginning, at least in Katsura’s eyes, is in reality their last fight together. But katsura, for all the things he hasn’t foreseen, couldn’t mostly, isn’t blind now. There’s something in the air.

Takasugi carelessly slides open the screen door of that old inn, their ‘headquarters’. How laughable. “Wish me luck,” his voice is filled with a hollow disdain, not aimed at Katsura in particular. The fact that they’ve been sleep deprived for some time has become irrelevant. Katsura has been injured for a couple of days, it’s not healing well, not as fast as he would like. He can’t go and that makes his chest hurt, he still wants to be at Takasugi’s side.

“Don’t go overboard,” he says stiffly.

His comrade ignores the advice, he leaves without a glance and Katsura stays alone. He starts lying to himself, he also continues to worry in secret and that feeling doesn’t go away. He needs to sleep but barely can, sometimes he wonders how much more the emotional strain is to blame. His body is still so infuriatingly weak. He always thought himself to be that kind of samurai, strong and unflinching, Katsura think he needs to change and should let go of the sentimentality. Their current state is bleak, he _has_ to change.

With Takasugi, days would pass and the next time they’d meet again the tension accumulated always explodes… more or less. Tatsuma is no longer here to smooth things up, just thinking about this leaves him helpless. Three days ago it went like this:

“Did you and your men cross the river last night? Did you engage them without telling us?” Katsura remembers that he barely held back the impatience in his voice. “Answer me.”

“Of course we did. The Kiheitai doesn’t owe you an explanation.”

Takasugi is a difficult man to deal with, always has been. Gintoki is… Katsura doesn’t know how to describe him. His normal self would be lazy and also he is someone who hides a lot. That’s not much, they’re close friends, why can’t he find the words? The right word that can sum up one single life.

“You should’ve waited for him,” he said after a long pause.

“Who? Shiroyasha?” And Takasugi’s eyes glimmered darkly. “How naïve, Zura.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”

 

Takasugi won’t say it, but he needs Gintoki too.

 

 

The nightingale floor. It’s a cheap stratagem they used at the beginning of the war because of what sensei told them one day in their small classroom, how the imperial palace uses it, how the shogun’s does the same, how “allowing the floor to sing” made sensei smile like an idiot. It creaks, someone’s coming and Katsura is alone, his men are with the Kiheitai. He takes out his sword slowly, swiftly and lays it under the blanket. The footsteps are dragging and then stop, Katsura has learned not to get his hopes up anymore but he recognizes the young man entering the semi-obscured room.

Katsura doesn’t move, his eyes close while the presence is approaching. That silly, lazy boy slams a hand on his forehead, “You’ve got a fever Zura… I thought idiots didn’t catch colds?” But Gintoki’s voice is no longer boyish, that’s all in the past now.

Katsura sighs in relief and exasperation, “It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura! Where were you?”

“… Red district.”

“In the middle of nowhere?”

Gintoki scratches his white, silvery hair, still visible through the darkness, “Mah… public bath?”

“You moron!”

“No, no Zura… that’s _you_.”

Katsura hasn’t the energy to protest, to be fair, he has been waiting for his friend from the very beginning. Wandering every night alone, among corpses, isn’t good. It’s a bad habit Gintoki has to stop, it’s not good at all, they can’t afford to lose their minds.

“I can’t sleep,” Katsura says.

“Try again. Ain’t that hard, just close your eyes and count sheep.”

Katsura doesn’t want to, he fears that if he does, the moment he’ll open them again Gintoki won’t be there. But this time, Gintoki stays the whole night. He doesn’t say it, but something brought him back, the same feeling that made Takasugi restless the entire afternoon. Maybe it’s the fever that got to his head, his spirits were low but there’s that heaviness hanging between them.

“You made it sing.”

“What’re ya babbling about now? Told ya to sleep… I’m here now.”

“The floor… it sang… like a nigh-“

“Nightingale…” Gintoki finishes the sentence.

For a boy who didn’t care about literacy, a young man who didn’t care about history or politics, he has absorbed every single word sensei taught him like the rest of them. He’s also the most eager to get him back, that’s why he haunts the battlefields days after nights.

“D’ya think they have nightingales in space?” Gintoki asks after a while.

Katsura is so astonished that he fails to think clearly, it’s heartwarming in a way he hasn’t felt for a long time, even if Tatsuma’s name isn’t said aloud. That it comes from him, no less, who could have left earth so easily if circumstances were different... Although… yes, Katsura always imagined this but he also never could fully picture Gintoki split up with them.

Would he ever leave sensei even if he was safe?

_No, that’s impossible._

“Space is so vast… who knows? An idiot like him will find anything anywhere.”

In the darkness, Katsura sees the smile of his friend shadowing the fear in their hearts.

 

 

It’s incredible, instincts. But Katsura has no time to dwell on it, the sleepiness prevents him to move or think or be happy even for a short moment. He didn’t hear the nightingale floor when Takasugi came back. It’s not dawn yet, that means he came back sooner than usual, and all what Katsura can see through heavy eyelids is the two good-for-nothing samurais listening to the rain.

It’s enough.

 

 

The day after, Katsura feels better, invigorated. It doesn’t last. They’re captured and Gintoki makes his choice. Sensei’s smile isn’t broad enough to shadow the anger and the emptiness.


End file.
